


Sound of the Rainbow

by oonymay



Series: Colours in the Music [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonymay/pseuds/oonymay
Summary: To Chan, Woojin’s voice was made up of all the colours of his home.-or-Chan had lived with synaesthesia for as long as he could remember. He had just never seen a colour quite like that of Woojin.





	Sound of the Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ^.^
> 
> So - new fic, new fandom! 
> 
> Warnings: Reaction akin to a panic attack in the section: _blue_. If you want to know, just fling me a message and I'll answer any questions :)
> 
> Note: I took creative liberties so please don't get too hung up over the inaccuracies that I know are present... 
> 
> Without further ado, let's get into it! Hope you enjoy it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated >-<

_red_

Chan slumped against the wall of the dance studio and hung his head. It was only early in the morning, but Chan was already panting and sweat was streaking his face. No matter how many hours he spent training and working out to build his endurance, dance sessions were always exhausting.

Swinging his head back and closing his eyes lightly, Chan exhaled heavily. He was alone, having come in when it was still dark outside so that he could get in some extra practice before their group practice started that afternoon. For a few minutes, all Chan could do was gasp and splutter as he painfully tried to gather all the oxygen he needed.

The music was still playing, beating angry red pulses across the room. The flashes were the colour of the blood that he could taste in the back of his throat.  

The colour of music was always interesting. Normally, the song reminded him more of red gum sap but when he was exhausted and in pain, it quickly changed to bloody slashes. If he had been aware enough to think about it with a clear mind, he might have found it interesting to see how quickly his perceptions of the same colour changed. In reality, it often occurred so reflexively that he never even noticed.  

When his breaths evened out, Chan let out a sigh. He pushed himself to his feet, joints all aching in protest, and walked slowly to his bag to pull out his water bottle. It was almost empty.

“For God’s sake,” Chan muttered in English under his breath. He drained what was left in a single sip and, still thirsty, left the practice room to find the water bubbler after turning the music off.

Chan found the fountain with little trouble and leaned against the wall as he filled up his bottle. He stood with his eyes partially closed again, trying to ration the amount of time he had to be awake. The previous night had been another sleepless one. 

As he was stood there, Jeongin appeared from around the corner. He was wearing a massive grin and his rucksack was slung over his shoulder, carelessly, as if it had been a last minute addition when he had left the dorm. He bolted down the corridor and collided with Chan, who had only just managed to cap his bottle to stop it from slopping over both of them.

“Hyung!” Jeongin squealed, flinging his arms around Chan’s waist and clinging to him like a barnacle. “Hyung! Have you heard? There’s a new trainee!”

Jeongin's brilliant, sunshine yellow surrounded both of them, dazzlingly bright just as it always seemed to be. “Hello to you, too,” Chan laughed as he hugged Jeongin in return. It was a brief embrace because Jeongin was restless and started squirming. 

“They’re saying he’s moved from SM,” Jeongin continued. He took a few steps back so that he could see Chan and readjusted the strap of his backpack.

Chan regarded his excitement carefully. Although it was interesting to see the new trainees, Chan had been in JYP long enough that he had seen plenty of people come and go. He always tried to be respectful but he was also careful not to over-involve himself before he had properly met them. 

“Maybe we’ll meet him this afternoon, then. You’re here early, though. Finished your homework?” Chan asked teasingly. 

Jeongin pouted “Hyung,” he whined. Chan raised an eyebrow and Jeongin sighed and hung his head. “Not yet, but it’s Saturday! I still have tomorrow to do it. And, anyway, I hate English; I’m going to drop it next year." He giggled sheepishly. "Sorry, hyung.”

Chan laughed. “Well, if you have your books here, I can help you with it, you know.” He ruffled Jeongin’s hair affectionately and Jeongin swiped at his hands. Chan finished filling up his bottle and they walked back to the practice room together.

Jeongin dropped his bag on the ground next to Chan’s and then pulled on his dancing shoes and started warming up.

“Did you see the group chat, hyung?” Jeongin asked. He pulled one arm behind his back and held it there as he spoke. 

Chan shook his head, not looking up. His eyes were fixed on the screen of the laptop as he got ready to restart the music. “Not yet. Why?”

Jeongin shrugged. “Hyunjin-hyung said he'd be late. Caught in traffic, I think. And Jisung-hyung has a paper that he hasn’t finished writing yet, so he'll be coming in later. It's due tomorrow night, apparently.” He reached for his toes and held the stretch for a few seconds before straightening up. “There was also an email asking for us to get to the stretching class ten minutes earlier than normal.”

Chan hummed in agreement. “Well, as long as Hyunjinnie and Jisungie here before that, they’ll be fine. They're both on top of the dance; they’ll be okay if they come in late today.”

Jeongin nodded and sprang up to his feet, bouncing on his toes. “I think the session has been moved forwards so we can meet the new trainee.” He grinned.

“You’re excited,” Chan said, still amused. “Do you know him or something?”

Jeongin shook his head earnestly. “No, but like I said - apparently, he moved from SM! Imagine; he might have been in the SM Rookies or at least know them. That’s so cool!”

Chan chuckled. “Let’s wait to meet him before making assumptions, okay? Anyway, what did you want to run?”

Jeongin paused to think for a moment. Then, he named their upcoming monthly assessment song. Chan bought it up on the laptop so they could drill on it together.

When they were both preoccupied with practice, the hours passed almost as quickly as their water bottles emptied. Jisung and Hyunjin eventually joined them and when they took a break for lunch, Jisung worked on his paper, Seungmin studied and Chan simultaneously helped Jeongin with his English homework while trying to revise his Chinese vocabulary for the upcoming test he had.

In the afternoon, all the trainees gathered in the largest practice room a little before they were due. Even the female trainees who they were usually sectioned off from were there, too which made butterflies start in Chan’s stomach. If the female trainees were there, too, it was usually a significant announcement that was being made.

Chan swallowed and shuffled into his place in the line between Jeongin and Hyunjin.

Exactly on the hour, the trainee manager walked in. Behind him, an unfamiliar boy trailed. His hair was dyed a light, mousy brown. It wasn’t so dissimilar to the colour of Chan’s own hair. (Thank heavens, he had moved past the pink that reminded him of his parent’s voices when they promised that they would see him soon when they left him at the airport).

Jeongin wriggled and rocked on his toes, itching with questions. He looked like he was struggling to stop himself from delving into a neverending babble there and then. 

The manager finally spoke. “This is Kim Woojin. He’s moved SM. I expect you to make him feel welcome.” The manager moved to the side and allowed Woojin to step forwards so that everyone in the room could easily see him. He didn’t look nervous, which Chan had to admire.

And, God, the teenager was good looking. Chan was an eighteen-year-old, hormonal teenager and love was a fickle thing, but when Woojin made a second's worth of eye contact with him, Chan felt shivers run up his spine. Woojin took only a few seconds to scan over everyone in the room before he sank into a bow.

“Nice to meet you. Please take care of me,” Woojin said. His voice was light and had a vaguely melodic quality. A vibrant, resonant blue enveloped Chan as warm and pleasant as the sea on a summer day in Sydney.

Chan stood there, frozen. _It was blue_. Chan had never seen that blue before. In his life, he had seen most colours that he could think of on a colour wheel. Reds were common, greens occasional, pinks and oranges rare but this blue was like an illusion. Blue in itself was uncommon but this particular shade was one that he could never remember having seen before. 

He blinked, but it didn’t go away. Around him, the other trainees were bowing politely and greeting Woojin. Chan caught on only after Hyunjin prodded Chan’s back, trying to be discrete and failing when it caused Chan to jump.

“I look forward to working together,” Chan mumbled. It was a traditional greeting but said a second too late.

Woojin looked at Chan and smiled. His eyes disappeared into crescents and his teeth were all visible. Chan felt a strong tug just behind his naval and swallowed, trying not to betray his emotion. Beside him, Hyunjin snorted and Woojin looked away. Chan could feel himself turning even redder.

Jeongin walked to Woojin confidently and started to make conversation as the rest of the trainees began to break off into groups, the excitement of fresh meat already beginning to dissolve. Woojin floundered and Jisung laughed as he walked over to join them.

Even standing five meters away, the blue wove around Chan like beautiful thatching, creating a fourth dimension that he had never seen before. It captured his attention and he swung his eyes around, following the trail. 

It was not that he had never seen sounds before. Chan had seen sounds for as long as he could remember. At the age of eighteen, they had become an integral part of something that is innately him and also something that he refused to talk about. There was no need to parade it around and it never helped that most people were more than happy to label him as crazy or a liar whenever he talked about it.

This was different, though. Chan could not remember ever being so enamoured by a colour. The blue was not a particularly stunning shade or even one that stood out, but it was unlike any other blue he had heard before. It made Chan’s insides shake like he had contracted the really horrible fever that he had during his first winter in Seoul. 

“C’mon, man,” Hyunjin said with a laugh. He pulled Chan forwards to join in with Jeongin and Jisung.

Chan worked actively to stop his limbs from trembling and collapsing underneath him.

Woojin turned to look at him and Hyunjin. Chan felt himself crumbling like pillars of salt being washed away by the tide.

“Hey,” Woojin said. He began to speak and Chan was drowned in the sea of blue. It was everywhere and it was beautiful. In the back of his mind, Chan listened for his name. He was used to keeping his mind in two places at once.

They took it in turns to introduce themselves personally. Chan was a quivering mess when he tried to speak and took no notice of what he was saying. Hyunjin snorted again but Chan could barely pay attention to why. He was transfixed on the blue that was melting into the surroundings. 

Woojin laughed and Chan was lost all over again. Threads of pure white weaved in and out of the blue. Chan breathed in sharply, struggling to understand what was being said when he was so distracted by the pallet surround him. “Where are you from?” Woojin asked, eyes still shining. “Chris isn’t a Korean name.”

Chan could have hit himself on the forehead. “Chan,” he corrected quickly and cast a dark look at Hyunjin. “I’m Australian but my parents are Korean. I’ve lived in Korea for four years.”

Woojin’s eyes widened slightly. “Four years? That’s a long time…”

Chan nodded but did not elaborate.

He was saved when the dance instructor walked in and they were immediately put back into rows for their monthly stretching class. The music was a gentle, flowing brown that Chan was able to distract himself with. Even so, he kept glancing at Woojin who had been put in the line next to him.

 

After the stretching class and subsequence dance training had finished, Chan hung around in a composition room. Jeongin and Hyunjin both had vocal lessons and Jisung had left to find the local library so that he could finish his essay. Chan had finished his homework the previous night when insomnia had robbed his sleep from him, but he was studying various languages and there was always more vocab that he could learn. 

However, he had no problem with putting that off. There was nothing waiting for him at the dorm except for a dinner that he still had to cook and textbooks that he needed to study. Jeongin and Jisung were his only room mates and they would both be hours before returning home. 

The extra time gave Chan an excuse to go to the composing room, anyway. 

Producing music was something that was special to Chan. He could control his own rainbow of colours and manipulate them in any way he wanted. The song that he was working on was almost finished. The lyrics had been completed, as had the backbone and most of the flesh of the arrangement.

He was playing with an additional synth line when he looked up and jumped half a mile. Woojin was standing near the door frame, peering around.

“You’re still here,” Chan said, shocked. His eyes were fixed on Woojin.

Woojin nodded, looking slightly abashed. “My vocal lesson just finished. But, hey, I wanted to talk about earlier.” He stood awkwardly by the door and his arms were crossed. “Can I, um, come in?”

Chan waved his arms and nodded, only realising a minute later that he looked like a fool. “Earlier? What about it?” he asked, as Woojin found a chair and pulled it up so that he was close to Chan.

Woojin frowned. “I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have mentioned that you sounded foreign or your training period. That wasn’t very nice of me.” He stared at his lap.

Chan was frozen into a statue by surprise for a few seconds. “What?” he said honestly lost for words. He shook his head. “Why are you apologising? I’m not offended! I’m the idiot who defaulted to English!”

Woojin refused to look up. “No, really, that was inappropriate of me. You shouldn’t point out accents and stuff. Or training periods.”

Chan shrugged. “Maybe not, but I don’t mind. Like, seriously, don’t apologise! I’m sorry for using English. Korean is cool but sometimes I confuse myself. If I'm not paying attention to what I'm saying, then I don't always get it right.” He laughed awkwardly, trying to raise the mood that had settled in the room.

Woojin gave him a hesitant smile. “Okay, then. I won’t do it again, though.”

“Feel free to tease me about my accent. God only knows that everyone else does. Well, everyone who speaks English, anyway," Chan insisted. He chuckled again and this time, Woojin joined him.

“Anyway,” Woojin began again. “What are you still doing here? It’s getting late.”

Chan shrugged. “Composing some stuff, I guess. I live in the dorms, obviously, so there’s not really any reason for me to go back early. Everyone's out, anyway. Jisung's at the library and Jeongin's in a lesson. I said I’d walk back with Jeongin once he’s finished his vocal lessons, but he wants to do dance practice, anyway, so I might be here a while. I’m just making use of the time.” He spoke unnecessarily quickly and his whole body was alert with nerves.

Woojin simply nodded thoughtfully. “That’s nice of you. How long have you known Jeongin?”

Chan pulled a face and tried to remember the day he had first met the boy. “A few months… He moved into the dorms, so we had no choice but to get to know each other. He’s like my little brother, now.” He paused for a moment. “They all are.”

Woojin smiled wistfully. “It’s really nice that you have a relationship with them like that.”

“You came from SM, right…” Chan asked hesitantly. “What was it like there?”

Woojin frowned. “The people were nice, don't get me wrong. But, then they all started to debut in the SM Rookies. It's not that I'm bitter about that or anything; I think I just never really felt like I properly fitted in there. I think it’s easier to get to know people well when you live with them, which nearly everyone does at SM, but I didn’t.”

Chan hesitated for another second. “So, that’s why you moved here, then?”

Woojin pulled a face. “I suppose. I don’t really know. All I knew was that I didn’t want to stay at SM. JYP offered me a place, so of course I took it. It’s not like I’m moving into the dorms here, either, but it gives me the opportunity to make the change that I want. ”

Chan was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry for asking you. Probably should have left that alone, too.”

Woojin shook his head. “No, no, I don’t mind. I knew that someone would ask and honestly, I’d rather tell someone my own age than kids who want to hear it as some sort of epic story of what it’s like in SM.”

Chan had to laugh because he had no idea what else he could do. Woojin smiled with him.

“We’re the same age, then?” Chan asked.

Woojin paused. “Born ninety-seven,” he said.

Chan grinned. “Okay, when?”

“April.”

Chan nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, hyung,” he said, his grin growing even larger.” I’m October, ninety-seven.” He paused for a second and looked at Woojin, face still alight. “Geez, it’s been a while since I’ve trained with a hyung.”

Woojin laughed. “Thank you, I think… Anyway, can I hear your song?”

Chan hesitated and bit his lip. “Um… Well, I suppose you can…” He suddenly felt jittery again and maybe it showed because Woojin backed off quickly.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to!” Woojin said quickly. Red was tinging his cheeks and he suddenly looked extremely embarrassed.

Chan shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay… It’s just… It’s still a work in progress, though, and, I’m trying to find someone to sing a good version of the guide because I’m sick of my own voice.” He paused for a second, waiting to see if Woojin said anything. He didn’t, so Chan moved to restart the music against his better judgement.

Woojin listened in rapt silence as the song played. The familiar beats splashed a rainbow of colours around them both and Chan tried not to think about it or to look at Woojin’s face too often. Sharing a new composition was always terrifying, no matter what stage of production it was at or how complete it felt to Chan.

He could not understand why he was suddenly showing his music to a person that he had met only hours ago. Jisung had been trying for weeks and had only managed to wheedle his way to hearing the beat. Yet, as Chan hesitantly watched Woojin, he found that he minded less and less.

“How could you ever be sick of your own voice?” Woojin asked a few seconds after the demo had finished.

Chan turned to him and cocked his head slightly in confusion.

Woojin shook his head. “Your voice is just… Really good. Like, it’s an I-could-listen-to-this-all-day type of good. And damn, you composed this by yourself?” He looked Chan up and down like he had never seen him before. “I didn’t realise JYP was hiding a genius.”

Turning bright red, Chan shook his head as quickly as he could. “Please don’t say that. I’ve still got a lot to improve on.”

Woojin laughed. “Okay, okay. But, seriously, your voice is really good. Don’t put yourself down. I don't think I could ever get sick of your voice.”

Chan’s expression tightened. How could he ever explain to Woojin that the grey of his own voice made him tired after enough time passed? There were only so many times he could watch his own voice raging around him like a storm before he wanted to escape to sunny skies again.

“If you’re listening to your own voice every day, you’d get tired of it, too,” Chan defended himself weakly.

Woojin shrugged. “I wouldn't know. I’ve never done a proper recording before.”

Chan paused and an idea rocketed through his mind.

“Can you record the guide for me, then?”

Woojin almost fell out of his chair. “I only got here today!” He sounded like he could barely believe what was happening. “You don’t even know if I can sing! You don’t have to do this out of pity, you know. I’d never be able to live with myself!” The speed of his words was almost up to tempo with Chan’s from just a few minutes before.

Chan shrugged. “You’re a vocal trainee; of course you can sing. Besides, I want to see your voice.”

There were a few more seconds of silence. “Hear?” Woojin corrected cautiously.

Chan picked up on his mistake and irritation flushed through his gut. Even so, it was something that most people passed of as mistaken vocabulary rather than anything with deeper meaning.

“Yeah, hear,” Chan repeated. “Anyway, if you want to come around to my dorm at some point, I have recording equipment there. It’s only basic… But, it does the job.”

Woojin nodded quickly, shrugged and then nodded again. “I mean if it’s okay with you… Then, yeah, that’d be amazing. You don’t even want to hear me sing first, though? Just to see if my voice even fits with your concept.”

Chan grinned at him. “Hit me with it.”

“Now?” Woojin recoiled a little.

“If you’re comfortable,” Chan amended.

Woojin took a deep breath in and pushed himself off his chair. “Now? Now. Okay, then.” He bounced on his toes a few times and Chan watched him, somewhere between amused, breathless and completely unable to look away from him.

And then, Woojin sang. It was even more beautiful than his laugh and Chan had honestly thought that that would be impossible. Blues and gold interwove like the sun in the summer sky. Chan’s mouth twitched in wonder and internally, he squirmed and tried to etch the colours into his memory permanently.

 

* * *

 

_orange_

From the first demo that Woojin finished recording, Chan knew that there was something special. The colours never left his side and he always longed to see Woojin’s blue when they were apart.

It became easier after Woojin and Chan both graduated and neither of them applied to university. Suddenly, they both had free days to spend together between their part-time jobs and individual training sessions. It was like a whole new world had been opened up to Chan.

Slowly, their group grew in size, too. In the same year that Woojin joined, Changbin and Seungmin did, too. The year after that, Minho and Felix became part of their group.

Chan remembered meeting Felix most clearly. Perhaps it was because there was something unforgettable about being the designated, English-speaking, Australian representative who got to great Felix, who barely spoke a word of Korean. It was a natural and obvious progression for Chan to take him under his wing.

Felix’s voice was the dark, intimidated colour of blood oranges when they met, but as the months passed, Chan saw it become a brighter and paler, although no less intense, shade of sunset. For some reason, it made Chan feel oddly accomplished.

Most people that Chan met had their colours develop as he got to know them better. Sometimes, the colours changed completely. Sometimes it was only a few hues further down the colour wheel. It was nearly always beautiful.

By the time they were training for their 2017 showcase, Chan had known Woojin for over a year and a half. The blue never faded: it was bizarrely and stunningly consistent.

Woojin’s blue – as Chan had taken to calling it – did not change while they were training or even when they were given a showcase to practice for, with the rumour of a chance at debut following it. In a way, Woojin and his blue became Chan’s constant. They were his home because they were always there when everything else kept changing and his real home was so far away.

It had been almost seven years since he had been to Sydney. Expensive air flights and too much to do had made sure of that. Still, long phone calls and longer Skype sessions kept him grounded and when even that failed, Woojin was there.

As the two oldest members, they had an unspoken, mutual reliance. They helped each other, even if it was only by lightening the burden for a few hours or calling each other out to rest for a few hours - particularly when sleep evaded them continually - before they collapsed in a heap.

But, they practised and they practised in their group of nine. And, eventually, the beats turned black, but Woojin’s blue was still there.

 

* * *

 

_yellow_

They were in a glass room when the discussion about the terms of their debut officially began. Chan’s whole body was shaking with nerves even though he was trying to disguise it and Woojin pressed closer than necessary to him in the bus. It was his silent message of understanding and Chan appreciated that because he didn't think he could bear to hear him voice everyone's worries out loud. 

Chan was too scared that he might crack. There were only so many shoves he could take before he splintered.

As Park Jinyoung spoke, Chan paid close attention.

“There is also a possibility that some of you might not debut,” Park said as he leant forward in his chair. It was almost intimidating. He looked completely serious and Chan’s heart dropped into his stomach. Immediately, he feared the worst. No one said something like that if they didn’t intend to wreak havoc; there was no reason to add that unless he intended to eliminate someone. 

Chan's stomach flipped and his throat closed up. It felt like there was not enough air and he struggled to breathe. Under the table, someone aimed a kick at his shin. Chan sharply looked up and met Woojin's eyes, fixed on his with something unreadable lying within them. 

For a moment, no one had anything to say except for subdued mumblings of acknowledgement. It looked as terrible as it sounded. Murky brown and boggy green swirled around the table and the colours of people who had spoken were dulled; it was completely overwhelming. Chan wanted to cover his eyes to get rid of the colours and stop his hearing to remove the problem at its source.

Woojin's foot tapped his leg again and Chan dragged his gaze back to him. Then, Chan looked up in helplessness and his gaze finally fell to his lap as he did his best to pull himself back together.

He felt defeated. Faces had crumbled at that news. Realistically, Chan knew that he was not the one in huge amounts of danger: he was the team leader and the longest-standing trainee. But, the others? Chan recoiled when he thought of it.

Chan looked up again and Woojin was sitting across from him as he had been the whole time and just as before, he was still watching Chan carefully.

With barely another word and the cameras having already been turned off, Park Jinyoung left the room. The brown swirled forebodingly after him until the door closed behind and it melted into the air.

Woojin shook his head sadly and Chan knew that they had been thinking the same thing. Chan knew that everyone was thinking the same thing.

He took a deep breath and Woojin nodded at him reassuringly.

“We’ll get through this,” Chan assured them. He wasn’t sure how reassuring he sounded. His own, grey voice floated around him in a rain cloud that did more harm than good. Just beyond the storm, Woojin smiled at him.

Jeongin suddenly spoke. “We’re nine or nothing, right?” His voice shook with trepidation but his face was set and his yellow shone as brightly with determination as Chan had ever seen it. “We’re on this team because this is the group that we want to be in, and because Chan-hyung picked us, but mostly because we want to work together and we work together well.” He flashed a smile in Chan’s direction. “Sorry, hyung.”

Chan shrugged and then forced himself to nod. “Of course. Jeongin is right. We’re in this together and at the end of the day, we can only do our best.” He latched onto Jeongin’s words and tried only to bring them to something that he could manage to choke out. 

Jeongin was the youngest of them, but sometimes he seemed wise beyond his years. Chan didn’t know if it demanded more fear or admiration. When he had once looked back, he had quickly realized that when he was sixteen, he would have been nowhere near ready to face this kind of a task.

“We’re totally going team name,” Jeongin added quickly. He adapted to the atmosphere quickly and was taking full advantage of it. Chan let him go wild and watched Jeongin’s yellow grow brighter and brighter until he became the Pointers in the night sky.

 

* * *

 

_green_

Green, to Chan, had always embodied a million different things. It was the colour that the grass refused to be in summer because the drought had sucked the moisture out of the environment and the water mains. Different shades of it embodied Bambam, Hyunjin and Minho. A particularly ugly shade had been the colour of the first song he had composed.

He had never thought that he would hate green until he saw Minho’s green fade from the training rooms once he was eliminated. His dark, forest colour was there one day and gone the next. It was like losing Bambam to Got7 all over again, but worse, because he could have – _should have_ – done more to stop Minho’s elimination.

Hyunjin’s lime green was weak when they got back to the dorm. Everyone’s colour was because no one had anything left to say except for occasional, short, quiet sentences. Everything looked like weak food dye being injected into a clear ocean and left to dilute.

That first night was horrific. Minho had packed his things into his bundles and left to the sound of crying and the colour of heartbreak.

Woojin and Chan were left in their own room, the number suddenly decreased from three to two people. Even if their dorm sometimes seemed too small for all nine of them, it was something that Chan cherished because it meant that all nine of them were together. Chan had never dreamed of remedying the problem by losing a person.

Chan went to bed early and curled up under his blanket, trying to ignore the distinct absence of Minho. He finally let the tears seep out of his own eyes.

When Chan was with everyone else, it was easier to pretend that he was okay. There was pressure on being the strong one who could act as the rock for the younger members who had sobbed the entire bus trip back to the dorm. In private, he could let go of that persona and wallow in his own sorrow, even if it was only for a bit.

Woojin crept into the room and waited for nothing before climbing into bed with Chan. Chan tried to stifle his cries at least a little but then, he saw Woojin’s eyes, also glazed with unshed tears.

Shaking his head, Woojin hugged Chan and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Neither of them said anything; they didn’t have to. Seeking silent comfort in each other was sometimes easier than having to vocalise all the words that were sometimes better left unsaid.

It was no easier when only a few weeks later, Felix’s pale orange immediately darkened to its original bloody shade in the space of his first sob and then disappeared entirely by the end of the day.

Only a few weeks passed between that and Minho and Felix’s reappearance, but to Chan, it seemed like an eternity. He immersed himself in songwriting and producing when he ran out of all other outlets. The small amount of sleep that he had been scrounging before the eliminations went out the window as his mind catastrophised and he worked himself to the bone out of desperation. 

Woojin remained his reality link to the world. He dragged Chan to bed and stayed with him until he had managed to sleep even for a few hours and took care of the younger members when Chan was simply too exhausted to do it for any longer.

By the time they were confirmed to be a team of nine, set on the path to debut again, he and Woojin had become a well-oiled machine. Only, they were human. They still made mistakes and sometimes Chan feared that they were too far caught up in themselves. But Woojin remained as dependable as he had been all the years ago when they had first met and his blue still never left Chan’s mind. 

 

* * *

 

_blue_

Chan didn’t know when it happened. He didn’t know how it happened, either. All he knew was that one minute he was working on the music for a new song in their new album, and the next, panic was beginning to descend upon him. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his throat and his stomach was churning like he was going to vomit.

He could feel his jaw twitching. His grip on a pencil that he had been using to scribble down notes tightened until his fingers were spotted with red and white from the pressure. 

Jisung put his hand on Chan’s shoulder and shook it gently. They were crammed next to each other around the desk in Chan’s room, and all a little too close for comfort. “No need to stress yourself out now, hyung. We can come back tomorrow to finish this.”

Chan shook his head. Behind his back, Changbin and Jisung exchanged worried looks. “We’ve been working four three hours straight and you can’t have slept more than that in the past few days combined,” Jisung continued, voice deliberately as calm as he could keep it.

Resolutely, Chan pressed some more keys in front of him and tried to get the music to stop. It was all blue, but it was the wrong blue. It was Woojin’s blue but not exactly and it sounded as wrong as it looked and felt. Everything about the shade made Chan feel sick and panicky and he could not understand why.

Neither could either of his bandmates who were looking increasingly concerned.

“Let’s finish up for now, hyung,” Changbin tried, looking extremely uncomfortable. He waited for a few seconds for any sign of a response. There was none. “It’ll be easier to work on if we do it tomorrow, with fresh eyes. Or, we can finish off some of the lyrics if you’d rather do that.”

“I can’t leave,” Chan said stiffly. He let his hands relax on the keyboard, not pressing any notes but only a Newton away from doing so. His actions felt robotic, like he was not fully aware or in control of what his body was doing. All he could focus on was getting rid of the blue before it drove him insane. 

For days, it had been like a loose screw in the back of his mind, slowly wriggling looser and looser. Abruptly, it was manifesting into a disaster that made Chan feel like he was losing control of himself and his mind. He shook his head again, refusing to listen. 

Changbin finally stood up having lost his patience. “This is ridiculous, hyung. We need to sleep and you do, too. You’ve barely even sat down since we started this who debut gig. This is your body telling you to stop. You're crashing and if you keep working, you're just going to work yourself into the ground and end up in, I don't know, a hospital or something!”

Chan frowned and turned to Changbin slowly. His neck cricked painfully as he did so but he did his best to ignore it. “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? And, I can’t. I have to finish it,” he repeated desperately. His voice cracked and everything itched with frustration and a desperation to do anything to stop the blue.

Jisung was suddenly looking unnerved and like he was beginning to understand what was happening. “Hyung, calm down,” he said. “We can run it once more, but we should stop after that. Changbin-hyung is right, we really should leave it until tomorrow when we’ve all got some sleep.”

Chan’s fingers curled inwards and he scratched his hands restlessly. “Fine,” he agreed distantly. Anything to get them off his back for long enough for him to fix the song. Without the track playing, his vision was clearing although it did nothing to soothe the irritation that was clawing at him like a rabid animal, demanding immediate attention or else threatening infection and insanity. 

Changbin and Jisung exchanged another nervous look and finally let Chan play the music again.

As soon as the first chord played, a cloud of blue consumed Chan. It was suffocating and Chan was choking. The room had become a vacuum and he had no air left. His fingers shook as he tried to press different cords and find some way to get rid of the colour.

It was disgusting. Everything about the blue made vomit rise in Chan's throat and threaten to emerge. It was wrong and nothing Chan thought could overpower his instinctual reaction of it being completely unnatural. 

He buckled forwards and his hands fell away from the keyboard, instead rising to his eyes. He screwed them as tightly shut as he could and then pressed his hands into his eye sockets, trying to stop the blue from showing anymore. It didn’t work.

Chan had no way explain what it was that was so wrong. All he could do was whimper, grunt and gasp for air as his breathing became more and more erratic. He was slowly suffocating and would turn as blue as the song in a cruel twist of irony. 

Jisung turned the music off, but Chan did not register it. It still rang in his ears like a church bell and he could not bear it. Desperately, he pulled his hands away from his eyes – still screwed shut – and scratched at his ears, trying to stop himself from hearing anything more.

If he took his ears off, then so be it. Chan did not care about the length to which he went to get rid of the sound. All he knew was that he needed it to stop. It would drive him insane if it did not. 

For a few seconds at a time, he would remove one hand from his ears and wave it around in front of him, as though he could felt off the colour. There was no way to physically fight a colour, though. Not even screwing his eyes shut made a difference. It was a projection of his mind, after all, and darkness was not a barrier to his brain. 

Jisung said something in alarm and abruptly disappeared from the room.  Changbin flickered between trying to flatten himself into the wall and pulling Chan’s hands away from his ears when he managed to scratch the skin with enough pressure to cause blood to well to the surface.

Chan’s world was covered in blue streamers and all he wanted was for them to go away. He could not register anything: he was in over his head.

Jisung came back with Woojin in tow and within mere seconds, he and Changbin had disappeared from the room, Woojin had pulled Chan away from the desk and to his bed and then held his wrists tightly, well away from his head. Woojin was talking in a quiet voice that Chan couldn’t understand but it was  _Woojin’s blue again_. That in itself was enough to start to calm him.

“Deep breaths, Channie,” Woojin said softly. He counted softly, up to seven and back down again until Chan finally began to calm down. Then, Woojin let go of one of Chan's hands and began to rub his back in circular, soothing motions.

"You're okay," Woojin whispered, continuing with his quiet and kind tone. His continuous murmur made his blue grow stronger and stronger, the one that Chan had come to love so much. It calmed Chan almost as well as Woojin himself did. His breaths evened out until they matched Woojin's occasional count.

Woojin continued to rub his hand up and down Chan's back even once Chan had gone slack in Woojin's arms, pressing his face against his chest. The colours were beginning to evaporate away and only spirals of Woojin's blue floated around Chan’s vision in vast, starry patches.

Woojin hugged Chan tightly. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Chan could barely manage to get a word out. Woojin did not press it. He sat there, a silent support, until Chan was finally ready to speak. He didn't know how long it had been, but Woojin never resisted or pushed. Chan could not have put his gratitude into words if he had tried.

"It was the wrong blue," Chan sniffed into Woojin's damp jumper. He no longer cared if Woojin knew: if there was one person he had learned to trust perhaps more than anyone else, it was Woojin. Woojin ran a soothing hand through Chan's hair and let him speak.

Chan said nothing more and finally, Woojin spoke again.

"What do you mean the wrong blue?" he asked.

Chan removed his face from Woojin's chest and looked away from the noticeable wet patch on his grey jumper. His eyes were sticky with drying tears and his voice was wobbly, but he had reached the end of the line. He no longer wanted nor had the willpower to keep the colours a secret from everyone. Even if it was just Woojin, he needed someone to understand.

"It's called Synaesthesia."

Woojin blinked. "What's synth- synen- that?" He stumbled over the unfamiliar word but did not hesitate or recoil as Chan had held an irrational expectation that he would.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Chan confessed, voice still uneven. He hugged his knees to his chest, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “It’s just always been like this.” His own voice blended into Woojin’s sweater, almost homogeneous except that his voice did not have the texture of wool.

Woojin was quiet and understanding, just like he always was. He rested a gentle hand on Chan’s knee. “Just… Just try. I want to understand.”

Chan was quiet aside for tear-choked breaths every few seconds as he tried to put it into words. He came up at a loss every time. Nothing seemed to properly do it justice. Finally, he swallowed and took the plunge. “I guess we literally see the world the same way but in my head, when I hear things, I can just see the colours.”

Woojin was silent and waited for Chan to finish, patiently and without interruption.

"It's just a connection that my brain makes; my mind generates the colour and projects it. It doesn't affect my vision but it's just kind of everywhere." Chan let out a noise of distress and knocked his head on his knees before Woojin stopped him. The blood on the side of his head had dried but it was still vulnerable to being knocked. "It just doesn't make any sense to people when I try to put it into words!"

Woojin moved closer to Chan and interwove their fingers. Chan imagined that it was more so that he could not keep scratching his hands in irritation at himself.

"And everything was blue?" he asked. He looked in control but his voice betrayed his confusion.

Chan shook his head. "It was the wrong blue. Sometimes it's overwhelming."

Woojin's forehead wrinkled as he tried to process what Chan meant. "Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Seeing colours.”

Chan paused for a few minutes. Woojin let him take his time.

“If you’ve smelt something bad, it doesn’t mean you’d want to get rid of your sense of smell. Just because seeing sound isn’t always nice, it doesn’t mean I want to get rid of it, either.” Chan ignored the feeling of dried blood on his left temple.

Woojin accepted the answer without pushing the question any further. Then, he continued. “How can it be the wrong blue?"

Chan blushed but at this point, he was beyond caring of what anyone thought. He just wanted to talk to someone about it. He was sick of living a secret.

“You’re blue,” Chan said. He paused for a split second and didn’t let Woojin say anything before he continued. “I had never seen that blue until I saw you and I've never seen it in anyone or anything else, either. Then that song was blue, and I just-.“ His breathing sped up again and he couldn’t make himself finish the sentence.

Woojin’s face turned a light pink but he pushed it back to rub his hand up and down Chan’s back again.

“It wasn’t your blue and it was all wrong,” Chan gasped to get the words out and eventually tumbled into a senseless ramble of which less than half was in Korean. Woojin eyed him cautiously and seemed hesitant about the best way to continue.

Finally, Woojin managed to talk over him.

“What’s my blue?” he asked.

Chan paused. “You’re not… Weirded out or something?”

Woojin shrugged. “Should I be?”

“In prep, I cried because we were doing a colouring-in sheet themed on an audiobook we listened to and I couldn't find a colour that was like the narrator's voice. The teacher sent me to the school counsellor who referred me to a child phycologist. That's how I was diagnosed. But, after that, I tried to tell people sometimes. Everyone thought I was making it up, or at least exaggerating. They thought I wanted attention, so I learnt quickly to keep it a secret." Chan looked at his lap as he spoke.

Woojin squeezed Chan’s hand tightly. “Well, I don’t think you’d make up something like that. Besides, I want to hear about my blue! What is everyone else’s colour?” Woojin's incredible talent for luring people into a place where they felt safe was something that Chan was not sure he would ever be able to repay. It had helped him many times more than he could count.

Chan settled into talking Woojin through everything. It was easier once he started and it was like a weight was being lifted off his chest with every word he said. He talked about everything from Jisung’s purple to Seungmin's pink and everything that he could fit in between.

Woojin made an excellent listener. By the time Chan had finished, he looked like he had come across an epiphany. Chan could still see the confusion, though. He waited to let Woojin process everything.

“I still don’t understand why it was the wrong blue,” Woojin finally said.

Chan nodded and explained. “I’ve never seen another blue like yours. The blue of the song is too similar without being the same but it means a different thing to me. It’s not like synaesthesia gives psychic abilities. I don’t understand why things are certain colours. They just are. But, once I’ve linked a colour with a sound – like a person’s voice – it just sticks and it messes me up when it gets out of sync with what I’m used to.”

Woojin was silent for another few minutes. “I’m your blue,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” Chan admitted. “Most colours appear in lots of places for different sounds. But, I’d never seen your blue before. I still haven’t. I don't think I want to.”

“And the blue of the song?”

“It’s too similar. Your blue is yours. I don’t want it to be anyone else’s.” Chan swallowed and tried to pull himself together. “It’s just… I can’t explain it.”

Woojin shook his head and shushed Chan. “It’s alright. I understand enough.” He grinned and began to change the direction of the conversation, as was his go-to but admittedly extremely effective way of cheering people up. “I suppose that I should be honoured that I have my own blue, though!”

Chan gave him a bashful smile and didn’t say anything.

“What type of blue is it?” Woojin pressed.

Chan paused and tried to find a word to describe it. He couldn’t settle on a single word: there were too many he wanted to use. “It’s… It’s the blue of my home,” he said distantly, staring at the wall.

“Oh,” Woojin murmured softly. He wriggled closer to Chan. There was a moment of hesitation between them before Woojin wrapped his arms around Chan, pressing his chest flush against Chan's back and resting his chin on Chan's shoulder. “Thank you."

“What for?” Chan said, slightly bitterly. He was warm in Woojin’s hug and wanted to stay there but something still sat incorrectly. “It’s my messed-up brain that does it, not my conscious thought.”

With Woojin so close, Chan could feel every word that he said vibrating in his chest. “Even if your brain makes the connection to the colour, no one can force you to make the connection to home.” His words were so quiet that Chan was sure he would not have heard them if Woojin’s mouth had not been right next to Chan’s ear.

Chan had nothing more to say, so he sat there in silence. There was still air for a few minutes and then Woojin abruptly pressed a kiss to the shell of Chan’s ear.

It wasn’t the first time they had exchanged kisses but something about it felt different.

Chan turned to look at Woojin. Woojin smiled at him sadly.

“Return it if you want, but let’s not talk about it now. We’re still under a ban.” His words shook slightly and suddenly occurred to Chan that they were both as nervous and scared as each other. The blue had never been more beautiful. 

Chan exhaled softly and twisted in Woojin's embrace so that he could peck his cheek. He could feel his stomach twisting violently and then everything relaxed. He breathed in deeply and then out. Woojin hugged Chan tighter soon and for a few minutes, they stayed intertwined with each other. Chen nestled his head into the crook of Woojin's neck.

Minho poked his head around the door a few minutes later. 

"All okay?" Minho murmured. 

Chan did not turn to look but he could feel Woojin shift slightly and move his arms. Presumably, he was showing that it was because the door closed again.

Woojin relaxed again and pulled Chan closer. In return, Chan curled around him even tighter. 

It only took a little longer for Chan’s eyes to start to droop, weeks and weeks of sleep deprivation finally catching up to him. He didn't sleep - insomnia did not simply don out hours in compensation for mental breakdowns or exhaustion - but he finally managed to relax. Woojin rocked with him softly until he fell asleep, dozing on Chan's shoulder.

 

* * *

 

_violet_

When they debuted, their title song was black. The blue song had been twiddled with until Chan could bear to sit in a room with again and was later named Grow Up. Their album had a whole array of colours, none of which were the same and most of which had correlated to the colour that Chan had changed the lava lamp to when he was working on them, not that anyone else needed to know that. 

On that night after Chan’s breakdown, he had dosed for a few hours. That in itself was an achievement; it was about as long as he could recall having rested for in weeks. Admittedly, he had not slept for much longer than that, but it had been more restful than he could ever remember. But even just lying and listening to Woojin’s quiet breaths that night was better than any other alternative that he could think of.

After Minho had left the room, he had fended the others in the dorm away from the room until they eventually went to bed too. Then, he had moved into the biggest room for the night and bunked with Jisung for the night. 

He had laughed about it the next morning and then swiftly made them swear that he could still sleep in their room if only so he could avoid Jisung clinging to him like a koala when he was trying to sleep. Chan had laughed before he had realised that Minho was not joking.

Jisung and Changbin asked only once for an explanation. Chan reeled something off about stress and apologised with a grin and even though it did not look like they fully believed him, the conversation was left there. Chan felt no great need to explain his synaesthesia to them: he was happy for it to remain between him and Woojin until he felt comfortable spreading it around.

However, Jisung and Changbin must have spread the word that Chan was not answering questions on what happened, because no one else tried to ask for details, either.

It eventually drifted from the front of their minds as they settled into the routine of learning new dances and filming again.

As they waited for their debut show, the room was a rainbow of colours as everyone and all their staff tried to speak over each other as loudly as they could. It was mindboggling to see so many shades at once.

Woojin sat next to Chan and they talked to each other quietly as they waited. Nerves were running high, and not just on their part. Jisung seemed to be trying to keep his worries under control by performing overzealous renditions of songs while Jeongin tried to join in where he could.

Even Felix had given up on trying to finish his homework. He attended long distance school and was, for all intents and purposes, homeschooled with an Australian curriculum. It gave him a stronger connection to Australia, even if it meant all of his exams were coming up later in the year and no one except his tutors and any English speakers he could find could help him with his school work when he needed it.

Changbin had only just graduated and was taking great liberty in laughing in his newly found freedom while all of the younger members stressed over the amount of work they had due. However, even he had not crowded Felix when he was still working. He was completely preoccupied with anxiously jiggling his knee.

Confident or shy by nature, everyone was hesitant to face the audience for their debut. Excited, too, but Chan for one could not stop the slight sickness of nerves that plagued him even though after seven, laborious years, he was more than ready to finally become an idol.

“You know it’s going to be okay, right?” Woojin said softly.

Chan glanced around the room. The colours were all bright with energy. “Yeah, I know.”

Woojin nodded in satisfaction. “We made it as nine. If we managed to do that, nothing can stop us now.” He laughed lightly and pushed Chan’s shoulder. “Well, maybe some things can, but we’ll be alright. We’re stronger than the crap the company can put us through.”

Chan raised an eyebrow but couldn’t hide his own laughter. “Don’t speak so loudly! We’re in the middle of a JYP dressing room with cameras everywhere!”

Woojin winked at him and his hand brushed against Chan’s in a subtle gesture that only Chan would understand. 

 

* * *

 

_pink_

“You know, the dating ban formally lifts next week.”

Chan almost spat out his drink. Woojin clapped him on the back a few times as Seungmin laughed at him.

“What?” Seungmin said as he continued to giggle. “It does!”

Woojin shook his head. “You’re, like, five. You’d better not be planning on dropping a bombshell as soon as we’re done with it.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes and crouched down to pick up his water bottle. Then, he turned around to face the others in the dance practice room. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s got a bombshell to drop,” he said simply while wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Around the room, there were echoes of laughter and goading. Chan rubbed his forehead with his hand, weary already.

“Here, here,” Minho said with a snort. He cast a sideward look at Felix who had no concept of subtly when he was staring at Changbin.

Everyone burst into peals of laughter again.

“At least navy and orange look good together,” Chan muttered under his breath. No one heard him but he had not intended for them to, anyway. He sighed and dropped his bottle in the corner. “No more dating talk until we’ve finished another run through.”

Minho groaned and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, but when he moved, everyone else did too.

The upcoming album that they were rehearsing for was meant to be released sometime just after their third debut anniversary, which also marked the end of the dating ban. Chan had purposefully refused to think about it although he was powerless when the others bought it up.

After the long dance session had finished, Woojin pulled Chan into a vocal studio under the pretence of practising some runs that were critical in the chorus. They were followed by catcalls and Woojin was bright red by the time they had managed to shut the door behind them.

Chan raised an eyebrow and waited for Woojin to explain.

“I actually do want to practice those runs," Woojin said defensively. Then, he rolled his eyes and shook himself out. "But, they weren’t lying about the dating ban, you know.” His attempt at a casual, conversational tone was slightly betrayed by the flush still present on his cheeks.

Chan shrugged. “I know. It doesn’t matter too much, though. We’ve been fine until now. All it means is that,  _formally_ , we’re not going against regulations if we’re dating. It doesn’t really excuse anything else though, so I’m not getting my hopes up too high.” He grinned, façade cracking. “But, it’ll be nice.”

Woojin chuckled quietly and nodded. “It will be.”

Chan walked up behind Woojin and tackled him with a tight hug. He whispered in Woojin’s ear, “And, I’ll be able to do this whenever I like.”

Woojin wrestled his way out of Chan’s embrace and turned so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “You already do that on the regular,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Chan laughed and leant forward to kiss Woojin’s lips. “But, I don’t do that,” he murmured when he pulled away.

Woojin’s voice was suddenly breathy when he pulled away. “You don’t, but I think that’s better kept in private or at least on the in the dorms.”

Chan shrugged and nodded. They looked at each other and burst into giggles. Grey and blue tangled together in a knot so tightly woven that it couldn’t be undone. 

 

* * *

 

Woojin’s voice is a perfect, bright blue when he speaks. It reminds Chan of the mountains at home where the eucalyptus oil has stained the air and turned everything into hazy, but beautiful, shades of purple and blue. When Woojin sings, threads of stunning gold, the colour of the wattle blossoms, weave into his voice. When he laughs, Chan can see the purity of a million tea tree flowers forming a patchwork quilt of white and sapphire.

To Chan, Woojin’s voice is made up of all the colours of his home.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this whole idea came from Chan talking about the mood light and the colours in I am Not ep1. And it so happened that I've been putting off studying and this was the result! 
> 
> Once again - I really hope you enjoyed it <33
> 
> \- Oonymay
> 
> * * *
> 
> Tumblr: [Oonymay](https://oonymay.tumblr.com)
> 
> Instagram: [Oonymay](https://www.instagram.com/oonymay/)


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